Dancing
by Kilrez
Summary: Staying back late is usually never so interesting. But then, Cameron does make things interesting...


**Dancing **

It was late in the hospital, and dark outside when Cameron entered House's office. The room was lit only by a solitary desk lamp, and it took her a moment to pick out the still form standing by the window, staring intently out at the night-concealed green.

Soft strains of jazz twined through the room, and a single finger of the single hand that rested on the windowsill lightly measured the beat. Cameron could see that he was thinking, and knew exactly what it was about, otherwise he would not have still been in so late. Nevertheless, she needed to disturb him.

Pausing for a moment as she pondered her opening, he saved her the bother by turning with a limping half-step. He wasn't holding his cane, and she sought it out, seeing it leaning against the desk. He didn't reach for it.

'You're in late,' he commented wryly, his eyes searching hers for a moment¸ then scanning deliberately up and down her body in a way that gave her hot chills. On Cuddy it would have been designed as an insult; him pretending that he didn't respect her as a doctor. On Cameron, it seemed like something else. She realised that he had cocked his head on one side, waiting for her to speak.

'I could say the same for you,' she replied lamely. Amusement settled on his features, but he did not speak right away. She stepped further into the office, brandishing the file she held in one hand. He tilted his chin up for a moment, indicating that she should bring it over. In the half-dark of the office, she was sure he wouldn't be able to read it, but gave it to him anyway, remaining close when she had done so. The smell of the harsh soap he used was somehow addictive when combined with his maleness, and she took every opportunity to breathe it in.

House was holding the file in his left hand, studying the label on the front for a moment as she studied him with slightly anxious eyes. Abruptly, he tossed it onto the desk, landing it neatly under the pool of the desk lamp without displacing a paper. Then he was looking at her, watching her watching him. Cameron managed to drag her eyes back to his face, from where she had ducked them to his chest when he had looked at her.

For a very long moment, they stared at one another, and it took Cameron's suddenly muzzed brain several seconds to realise that he was somehow moving to the music. It was almost imperceptible, and could never have been called dancing, but it was almost like House could not help following the smooth flow of the jazz.

'What were you doing?' She asked, feeling the need to break the silence, but wishing she hadn't because her voice betrayed her by squeaking with nervousness. The amusement returned to his features when he heard it, and Cameron wondered if he knew it was caused by rampant desire.

House didn't answer her question, or at least, her spoken one. He had hidden his intentions behind his unreadable eyes as he took a step forward, entering her personal space. Automatically, she stepped back, her mind frantically trying to figure out what he was doing, what she should do, all at the same time as screaming at her to let him come closer.

Seeming to hear the confused ruckus of her thoughts, he gave her no time to coherently collect herself again, but took another uneven step forwards, in time to the music. Once again, Cameron stepped backwards, pausing half a beat before she did so, so her move too occurred in time with the trumpet strains. Their gazes were locked, even though the planes and angles of their faces cast shadows that obscured features, making eyes into dark pools of shadow.

Not pausing between steps now, but shifting in time to the music, House deliberately backed her three more steps, and she jumped slightly as her back hit the wall, her lips subconsciously parting slightly. With her trapped, and her swirling yet sluggish thoughts disinclined to manoeuvre her out of the situation, he took one more step forwards, abruptly pressing their bodies together and leaving no more doubts as to his intention. His hands came up to rest on her hips, and for a moment, they both simply stood, perfectly still, eyes locked.

'Nothing important,' he murmured, fingers finding the bottom of her blouse and then the smooth skin underneath it. Cameron's eyes widened slightly as he traced small patterns with his fingertips and she suddenly wondered just how far this would go. She knew with instinctive inevitability that she would not be able to resist anything he did. She was putty in his hands. Especially as his hands were doing… A small breath escaped her lips, and she had to work for a moment not to close her eyes, wanting to keep his gaze.

Her mind briefly fought to the surface. 'What?' She asked belatedly, not entirely sure what she was questioning. He smiled at her soft question, not stopping his hands for a second. They were reaching higher, brushing up her ribs in a way that would have been ticklish, were it not so arousing. 'Nothing important,' he repeated, slowly grinding his hips forward against her, again eliciting a ragged breath.

Cameron couldn't comprehend his words, but was no longer inclined to try, mesmerised completely by slow movement of hands and hips. She was breathing through her mouth, inundated with his smell. With burning, bleary eyes she continued to meet a gaze that studied her impassively, traces of amusement still present.

Her hands hung by her sides, but as his touch on her heated skin became firmer, she brought them up to rest on his hips. A slight flicker of a frown crossed his half-lit face, but passed again when she kept them resting still, nervous of taking liberties despite the fact that he was feeling her up against the wall in his office.

Then, to shuddering stabs of pleasure, his dextrous hands began to move lower again, his hips parting slightly from hers and their slow rhythm to give his hands access.

Apprehension entered her gaze as he slowly undid the first, then the second button of her hip hugging jeans, but she made no move to stop him, so he continued his slow and deliberate advance. By his careful movement, and the way his searching gaze that did not leave hers, Cameron could tell he was making very sure he was not forcing anything. He needn't have bothered. Even sudden as this was, she more than welcomed it.

Still, a physical shock ran through her as his right hand slid into her panties, stroking around her waistband for a moment before sliding down between her legs. Following the shock came warm waves of pleasure, and once again she had to fight to keep her eyes open. His left hand wound up her side, seeking out unerringly the spots that made her shiver.

Just for a moment, House paused completely, setting her mind struggling back upright, before he began his assault, quickly obliterating her senses and taking her to a new level of thoughtless pleasure. Cameron could never have helped the way her hips began to move to his rhythm, was barely even aware of it, all her will power taken by continuing to meet his eyes.

Her expression told him everything he needed to know as he explored her further. His left hand rested on the warm skin of her hip, stationary whilst he concentrated on the assault between her legs, not completely unaffected by her quiet cries.

Cameron had tilted her head back slightly to lean against the wall without breaking his gaze, and her hands on his hips had tightened, ever so slightly. Her body was reacting in all sorts of beautiful ways to his touches, mouth opening wider as her breathing sped up. She still refused to break their gaze, although he could see her eyes were bright in the darkness, and half-lidded with pleasure.

Increasingly insistent waves of pleasure were rolling through her, breaking behind her eyes in golden flashes of light. Sharper stabs coiled in her abdomen, weakening her knees. Panting, she shifted her position to bring herself more firmly against his hand. House obligingly speeded his movement, scattering her thoughts to the four winds as she writhed against him, biting back loud moans.

Their gaze was burning in the darkness as she conveyed the depths of what he was doing to her through her eyes, cheeks flushed beautifully. In a moment she went over the top and could stand it no longer, burying her head in his rumpled shirt and using him to muffle her cries. He continued to stroke her firmly through it, stretching it out and soothing the bumps as all her muscles quivered, her knees nearly buckling underneath her.

Finally she stilled, panting a warm patch into the front of his shirt and not moving as he withdrew his hand from her panties, bringing it to his pants for a moment to wipe it then doing up her jeans for her. That done, he returned both hands to her hips and pulled her flush against him, sliding his hands around to her lower back to hold her there as she recovered.

He stood with her for long moments in the dark, half holding her up with her face still buried in the front of his rumpled shirt. His arms were around her, palms flat on her lower back to bring her flush against him, and his hips tilted forward to keep her pressed to the wall. He studied the smooth, pale curve of her neck in the lamp light, feeling the solid warmth of her pressed up against him.

Her face was not quite in the centre of his chest, it was slightly to the left, over his heart, and in the returning rationality of her aftermath, he wondered about this.

Cameron's voice was quiet, and muffled, so he almost did not hear her as she gave a tiny 'no.' He felt the vibration of the word against his chest though, and waited, frowning. After a moment she pulled back to look at him, leaning her shoulders against the wall, but keeping her hips against his, creating an air of both space and intimacy.

'No?' He asked curiously, searching her gaze once more.

'More,' she said cryptically, an unreadable expression on her face. He kept silent, and she swallowed away the dryness in her mouth. 'Not just this.' House understood.

'There is only this.' He replied, feeling the loss keenly as she took her hands from his hips and splayed one in the centre of his chest, pushing him away. He released her, reluctantly, taking one hobbling step backwards. They were close, but no one, upon entering the room, would possibly guess at what had just occurred.

Now Cameron was the one searching his gaze, his face, trying to find another answer. He gave her nothing, because it was true, there was nothing. He could give her intimacy, but no relationship other than sex. Apparently Cameron found this unacceptable, because she silently turned and exited, although he noted with traces of smugness that her walk was slightly stiff-legged.

Not three full sentences had been spoken, yet a thousand words had passed between them. House smiled quietly to himself, heading to his desk to begin scanning the file she had brought under the single light source in the room. He sensed it was far from over yet.

Belatedly, the jazz music swirled into a crescendo.

The End.

(NB. There will be a sequel, posted hereif anyone likes this, entitled 'Taming House')


End file.
